The day went by quickly, as busy days do. I must’ve gotten two dozen phone calls. Trent called around three-thirty to remind me of our dinner plans that night. I was surprised to find myself eager to get going.
Workplace romance is working for Emily, mused Little Miss Lovesick.Maybe it can work for us.
She didn’t sound convinced. Neither was I. But I was still looking forward to dinner.
As it turns out, I had good reason. He didn’t hang on my every word, but Trent was attentive. He was charming as he argued with me occasionally. He was sweet and funny. More relaxed and confident than I’d seen him before.
And completely spark-free, complained Little Miss Lovesick.
Yeah, well, it’s only one dinner. Give it time.
The sparks startedwaybefore dinner withMatt, she pointed out.
It was a bad idea to use that man to create your list, mumbled Sergeant Pride.
I was getting a little defensive with myself. It’s a good list. And Trent’s scoring high.
“So…” Trent said. He smiled at me and I smiled back. “Think you can handle dessert? They have the best Italian ice cream you’ve ever had.”
I looked at my to-go bag next to me. Half of my lasagna cooled inside. I looked back at Trent — who had no to-go bag. “Do you have a hollow leg?”
He laughed. “You have to admit, the food is good.”
“It’s great, but I really don’t think I can eat any more.”
Trent waved the waitress over even as I spoke. “We’ll have one dish of the Italian ice cream to share, please.”
“You do have a hollow leg.”
Trent shrugged. But the last laugh was on me. He was right. The ice cream was so good, I ateat least half of it.
By the time he dropped me off at my car back at the office, we’d been talking and eating and laughing for four hours. I don’t know why I kept feeling so surprised to be having a good time.
Probably because of You-Know-Who, said a Voice.
I’d been reading the Harry Potter books again and it made me laugh to think of Dirk and the evil Voldemort in the same category.
“What’s so funny?” asked Trent as I searched my purse for my keys.
I looked up. No mentioning past boyfriends. Completely taboo. “I can’t believe I’m playing the part of the stereotypical woman who can’t find her keys,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Sure they’re not in your pocket?”
I patted the front of the Capri pants I had on. Sure enough. I pulled them out and jingled them in front of Trent’s face. He took them and unlocked my door.
“Women,” he sighed.
“Gimme my keys, please.” I held out my hand and he dropped them in.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said, standing next to my open door.
“Me, too.” I smiled, then looked down at my keys. I wasn’t sure what to do or say. Again.
When I looked up, he was smiling at me. No stomach flips, but still nice. I could do worse. In fact, I had.
I don’t think you’re supposed to have to try this hard to like someone, said Lovesick.
It’s not hard to like Trent. He’s very likable. I like him.
It’s not the same, she sighed.
“So…” he said.
“So…”
“Big day tomorrow?”
“Kind of, yeah.” Was I supposed to just stand there and wait for him to leave, or could I get in my car? Was he going to kiss me? I wasn’t sure I wanted him to, but I didn’t want him to think I didn’t want to kiss him. That seemed rather…rude.
“Guess I should let you go then.” He stepped back so I could get in.
I turned on the engine and rolled down the window before I closed the door. He leaned against the doorframe and watched me buckle my seat belt. “Thanks again, Trent. I had a great time.” Once again, surprised that I meant it.
“Me, too. Thanks for coming.” He remembered something and looked past me.
“Got your leftovers? Yeah, you do.” The bag sat on the passenger seat next to my purse. “I guess I’ll be seeing that again tomorrow.”
I stuck out my tongue at him and slapped his arm. He laughed and jumped back.
“What? There’s nothing wrong with that. My mom is the queen of leftovers.”
“Yeah, that’s what every woman wants, to be compared to someone’s mother.” I rolled my eyes.
He laughed. “See you tomorrow. Drive safely.”
I pulled out and waved as I drove away. My plan to choose to feel better seemed to be working. It wasn’t all fireworks and chocolates, but it was nice. I really couldn’t complain.
Then I will, said Lovesick.
I DROVE straight to GT’s from home Wednesday morning. I was used to GT canceling and rescheduling, so I half-expected my cell phone to ring telling me to turn around and go home. I probably wouldn’t have turned around though.
The sun sparkled over West Bay as I drove up Peninsula Drive. The water reflected the brilliant blue of the sky. The grass and trees shone in a dozen shades of green. This was one of the prettiest drives in town. If I didn’t have to work, I’d keep going until I reached the lighthouse at the end of the peninsula, maybe take off my shoes and walk along the beach up there.
Maybe another day. I could see where I was headed from a half mile away. The right side of the winding lakeshore road was lined with pickup trucks. Pulling into the driveway, I maneuvered around a backhoe and parked under a tree. Looked like more than a simple renovation to me, but then GT had a fondness for doing things in a big way.
I took the folder of listings from the seat beside me and climbed out. I didn’t bother rolling up the windows — which after two years in Traverse City, still amazed me. In Lansing, I wouldn’t have even gone to the ATM without rolling up every window and locking all the doors. But I liked this small town feel.
I picked my way carefully around to the back. (The front door was covered with a plastic drop cloth.) I wore my favorite sandals with a stylish cotton blouse over Capri pants. Professional, yet comfortable. The sandals, along with the rocks and debris in the driveway, reminded me of sliding down that gravel trail in Abundance Creek. Better be careful. No one to catch me here if I fell.
I found another door, obviously the one being used by the construction workers. A large piece of dirty carpet lay haphazardly in front. GT had told me to knock and walk in since it might be noisy. I knocked and heard a “come in” that I guessed was directed at me. I walked in and shut the door behind me, having to move the chunk of carpet a bit with my foot to get the door closed all the way.
I had entered the kitchen, also being remodeled. A man at the counter studied some papers, making notes. From the look of him — T-shirt and jeans, hardhat, scribbling away on what may have been floor plans — I guessed he was the foreman, maybe even the contractor. He probably knew where GT was.
“Hi, do you happen to know…” I didn’t finish my sentence, but my mouth was still open. Wide open.
The foreman’s head shot up in surprise as soon as I began to speak. He didn’t say anything. He just stared.
It was Matt. Right there in front of me. Not in a fishing lodge. Not hours and hours away. Not in a dream. (Ignore that. No comment.)
Right there in GT’s kitchen. With a hardhat on.
“Sydney!” He took a step toward me. “What — what are you doing here?” He looked shocked and maybe a little pleased to see me. Not unlike what I was feeling at the moment.
“What areyou doing here?” I looked again at his hardhat and the floor plans. “You’re a fishing guide,” I reminded him. Like he had forgotten.
He smiled that really cute smile I remembered from the very first day, the one with the dimple in his left cheek.
“Yeah, sometimes. I’m a general contractor the rest of the time.” He took another step closer and looked at me like I was water in the desert. It felt like that to me, anyway.
“But why are you here?” Not that it mattered. He washere. Who cared
why?
Matt skimmed my appearance and something in his expression lit up. What was he thinking?
Hopefully the same thing I’m thinking, exclaimed Little Miss Lovesick.
“I’m just doing him a favor.”
I walked farther into the kitchen and stopped a foot or two away. Geez, he was more handsome than I remembered. Not just his looks, his whole —self. “Who?”
Matt’s smile widened. He could tell the effect he was having on me. “GT. I’ve worked with him before on commercial projects. He asked me to help out when the other guy he hired had a family emergency.”
“Oh.”
Damn, but he looked fine. This shirt seemed even tighter on him than the ones he’d worn up north. Of course, it was hotter now and he didn’t have a flannel shirt on. His biceps were…more…appealingthan I remembered. And his smile…my water in the desert.
“So, how’ve you been?” He moved closer, his hand reaching out to touch mine, then pulling back.
His touch made me shiver. I couldn’t stop staring at him, at those incredible blue eyes staring back atme. I reached out my hand. Our fingers touched, intertwining a little, pulling away and coming together again.
I’ve died and gone to heaven, breathed Little Miss Lovesick.
“Well, I—”
The door opened behind me. I jumped away from Matt like a junior high kid caught behind the bleachers. Matt moved back to his papers. I looked over my shoulder to see who had come in.
GT, looking spiffy (and expensive) in a short-sleeve silk shirt, lightweight slacks (that also appeared to be made of silk), and leather shoes (probably Italian, it’s GT, after all), filled the room. Of medium height, he had the protruding stomach so many older men get, but he was solid. Still, it wasn’t his size, but his presence. GT moved like the world revolved around him.
“Well now, Syd Riley. How are you, darlin’?” GT stuck out his hand and grasped mine with both hands. He held it rather than shook it. Southern charm, I guess. I pulled my hand back on the pretense of adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder.
We exchanged pleasantries while I pretended Matt was not in the room. But my mind was spinning. Why was he here in Traverse City? Where did he live? I found it difficult to concentrate on my client while thinking about the gorgeous man behind me. My imagination ran wild picturing him working, arms bulging, shirt on the ground…
I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t have watched that Diet Coke commercial on YouTube again when I got home from the trip.
I tried to focus on GT. He pointed around the kitchen and through the window, his lips moving and sound coming out. No idea what he said, though.
“I see you met my contractor here.” GT motioned for Matt to join us near the window. He clapped his meaty hand on Matt’s shoulder with a grip that probably would’ve brought me to my knees. “Matt Engel, builder of dreams, meet Syd Riley, dream weaver.”
Matt and I chuckled politely at GT’s descriptions and quickly shook hands as if we were just meeting. His hand was hard and rough and strong. Mine was shaking.
“Syd here,” GT continued, “can see the potential in anything. I didn’t want this house at first, didn’t want any of the houses she showed me.”
Boy, I rememberedthat.
“But she has a way of seeing beyond what’s in front of you. She can give you thevision of what could be.” GT patted my shoulder.
“Matt, now, he’s a man who takes the vision and builds it. Some of this is your idea, Syd. Look around. He’s an artist!”
Matt looked down at his feet, then nodded at GT. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I was grinning like a wild woman, I’m sure. His dimple appeared as he kept eye contact.
“You two should work together. You’d make a great team,” GT said, thumping Matt on the back. Then he winked at me and turned back to Matt. “Best be careful, though. She’s spoken for.”
Shi-ii-itt!!
Mayday! Mayday! All the Voices in my head were screaming — or fainting.
Matt’s eyes narrowed. My words stumbled over each other. “Oh — no, GT, that’s — we, uh—” My eyes dropped to my wringing hands. This was embarrassing beyond imagining.
GT looked at me in surprise. “You’re not married? What happened?”
Pull yourself together, woman, yelled Sergeant Pride.Repeat after me, things didn’t work out.
I took a deep breath and tried to relax my hands. “Things didn’t work out.” I avoided Matt’s gaze and tried to show a composed, professional demeanor to GT. “It happens.”
Now, hightail it outta there!
“So, shall we look over the listings I brought?” I tried to smile brightly.
“Well, that’s just a damn shame!” GT sputtered. “What a fool to let you get away.” He turned back to Matt. “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”
CHAPTER 10
I SAT on my balcony Saturday morning, feet up on the railing, chair tipped back the way teachers always yelled at you for in school. A tall glass of orange juice rested on the table. Next to it lay my cell phone. And Matt’s business card. A card that plainly showed a Traverse City area code...had I ever looked.
I stared into the woods that extended behind the back of my apartment building, looking for answers. A pair of chickadees called to each other up in the leaves. I wanted to call Matt, but I didn’t know what to say.
He had my number and hadn’t called, so maybe he wasn’t interested. I remembered how we’d looked at each other earlier at GT’s. He couldn't have shown his disinterest any more plainly.
I thought about calling Emily, but she and Geoffrey went out on a real live date last night, and since I didn’t know what time she got in, I hesitated to call and wake her up. While I tried to decide, the phone rang. I looked at the number but didn’t recognize it. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to clients right now.
By the third ring, I sighed heavily and answered. I love my job, I love my job, I love…
“By the Bay Properties, this is Sydney,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I toyed with the edge of the business card waiting for the other person to speak.
“Hi, uh… This is Matt.”
My feet came off the railing so fast I lost my balance and nearly tipped the chair over. The table wobbled precariously. I made a grab for the juice. The phone book landed with a thump on the floor.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi, sorry, I dropped something.”
“Sydney?”
“Yeah. Hi.” Crap! I had no idea what to say. My heart started such a drumbeat in my ears, I couldn’t hear myself think.
“How’s it going?”
“Uh, it’s good, it’s good. How’s it going with you?” Man, I am a freaking idiot. I think I heard him laugh. Was it a good laugh or a bad laugh?
“I’m good.” He paused. I scrambled to think of something to say but he beat me to it. “So, what’re you doing?”
Easy enough question. Safe.
“Sitting on my balcony with my orange juice.” Okay, that was true. Not very witty. But tone of voice was good. I was smiling while I was speaking, so that’s good. Adds a friendly tone.
“Haven’t, uh, had breakfast yet?”
He’s nervous!exclaimed Lovesick.Listen to him!
“Not yet, I’m waiting for Wolfgang Puck to start a delivery service. Great omelettes.”
“Really? Huh.” He chuckled.
Good, Syd, good. Make him laugh. Men like women who make them laugh.
“Well, maybe you’d settle for The Omelette Shoppe. They make a pretty mean omelette.”
Pause. What’s the right answer? What exactly is the question? Noncommittal is the best bet when you don’t know what the heck is going on. He didn’t exactly ask me out.
Who cares?cried Lovesick.Just say yes!
“I’ve never eaten there. Is it good?”
“Wanna find out?” He paused again. I blinked. Was he asking me out? He was totally asking me out! “How about I me
et you there in half an hour? My treat?”
I realized my mouth was hanging open when I almost swallowed a mosquito.
“Uh, sure, yes. Which one?”
Matt suggested the downtown location on Cass Street as I looked over what I’d put on this morning. It’s not a date. It’s a let’s-get-together-and-catch-up.
It’s not a date. Emily and I treat each other all the time.
It’s morning. Breakfast. Not a date.
“I’ll see you in half an hour,” he said and just like that he was off the phone.
Holy smokes, I was going on a date with Matt!
I ran and brushed my teeth. It’s ridiculous to brush your teeth right before you eat, I know. Crest and orange juice, yuck! Equally ridiculous, however, was the idea of going on a datewithout brushing my teeth.
I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. I was practically humming. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hummed. I giggled. I knew I was nuts, but I didn’t care. Thank you, God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
My tires squealed as I backed out of my parking space. I took a deep breath as I put the SUV in drive. Calm down. You don’t want to get in an accident on the way. It’s Saturday, after all, and every idiot with a car is on the road.
Whew. Okay. Better.
I opened my cell phone, dialed one, and got Em’s voice mail. “Em, call me theminute you get this message. I mean it. You’re never going to believe this! Bye!”
I thought I was going to throw up by the time I pulled into a downtown parking lot. I took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm my nerves.
Don’t check your hair or anything, warned a Voice.He might see you from the restaurant and think you’re vain. Or worse, overeager.
Good point. I hope I look okay.
It doesn’t matter. It’s not really a date; it’s just breakfast.
That’s right, it’s just breakfast.
Breakfast on aSaturday, which is like a date because he could be out withanyone right now and he chose me.
Okay, everyone quiet! I can’t breathe.
When I got inside the restaurant, Matt wasn’t there yet. I gave the waitress my name, then saw Matt jogging up the sidewalk.
He’s jogging, Lovesick squeaked.That must mean he really wants to see me!
Little Miss Lovesick Page 8
